


Speaking Volumes

by Dragon_Age_Reacts



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: ASoIaF, Cassandra Pentaghast's Disgusted Noises, Jealousy, Multi, This is the one from the blog, Writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Age_Reacts/pseuds/Dragon_Age_Reacts
Summary: The stories of the heroes of Thedas, if the Inquisitor had also penned the 'Song of Ice and Fire' series.Originating from the submissions on Dragon Age Reacts, and written by Mod Fereldone





	Speaking Volumes

**Author's Note:**

> For context, at the onset of the Conclave 'Clash of Kings' (Book 2) has been out for about a year.

The prisoner was still unconscious. 

It had been nothing short of a miracle that they’d been able to slow the growth of the rift currently rending the sky. It had given the would be defenders some reprieve against the constant flood of demons- and the explosions that heralded their fiery arrival-, but the strange light that permeated everything below the churning maw of the fractured sky gave them no illusion of safety. Only the ever present threat of imminent demise, with only the untrusted word of a potential murderer that whatever power currently infested his hand could set it right. It did not offer much comfort.

Nor did it restore all that they had lost.

Cassandra waited until Cullen’s footsteps had faded into the distance beyond the healer’s cabin before she let gritty eyes fall shut. It had been full days since last she’d slept, but every time her eyes threatened to close a truth worse than any nightmare plagued her. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, home to the last known resting place of Andraste’s divine remains, was destroyed-- and along with it the most influential and level headed figures from both sides of the rebellion. A rebellion that had thrown Thedas into chaos, and the only hope to unite them had died in their final moments. Any chance to a peaceful resolution was gone, and already Leliana had forded missives that some circles which had been moderate before the disaster now wished to break with the Chantry.

Everything was coming apart around them, the hopes of peace and a return to better times that had blossomed in  the cessation of the Blight and the reign of King Alistair. Doom threatened once again, but now they were a fractured people-- and they no longer had Most Holy to guide them.

The grief that rose to choke her was raw yet, and Cassandra spent long moments choking it back before the tears -threatening to fall since the moment of the explosion- could prevail. Justinia had been many things to all of Thedas, but to the Seeker she had above all been a friend and mentor. Cassandra felt her loss jeenly, but even grief would need to wait until they had a plan beyond ‘make the prisoner do it’.

The prisoner, whom people were so determined to kill that Cassandra and Cullen were forced to pair off guarding him until he either woke or died of his injuries. He claimed to have been summoned to the conclave, going so far as to produce the familiar vellum envelope bearing Justinian's personal seal from the pack that had miraculously survived his jaunt through the Fade. There had been no time to scrutinize it, with the world coming apart around them and death ringing in their ears, but as the seer shifted in Aiden’s stiff backed chair that same pack taunted her. It rested by the cot they’d laid him on, and while Leliana had vowed to send someone to collect it once she took roll of which of her spies still lived Cassandra was not well known for her forbearance.

She was not so fool hardy as to dump the contents out on the desk, but as she began to draw out the mundane collection of a traveler with modest means her hopes sank back. There was nothing here, either malignant or benign, to suggest motivation to slaughter so many. Only the odds and ends - a small purse of coins, several bundled maps, and the wrapped quill and ink sets that Varric was so fond of- that one might carry on a journey, all cushioned on an oilskin wrapped package.

That, within, help both the missive from earlier...and a leather bound journal.

The remains of the pack were shoved aside, and with shaking hands the Seeker smoothed the creased cover of the small book. This was solidly in the realm of Leliana’s experience, and logic reasoned that Cassandra wait for the Spymaster. The journal could be written in code, or contain the sort of information that- given she was armed and alone with the man accused of murdering not just Justinia but countless others- she should not have immediate access to. 

Impulse control was not, however, a hallmark of the Pentaghast clan- as the deaths of her parents could well attest- and so after a momentary hesitation she unwrapped the leather cord securing the cover and peeled the front away.

**‘A STORM OF SWORDS’**

 

**‘Book 3 of A Song of Ice and Fire’**

 

For several long moments Cassandra could not comprehend the words before her. She knew of the series, of course, had spent long hours reading every word and cursing or cheering the author by turns. So many of her favorite characters were in constant peril, some having died before even the end of the first book, and yet she could not put down either volume until the turning of the last page. Leliana shared her interest, if not her literary obsessions, and more than once Justinia had teased that if she could make the Canticles so enthralling the Maker might take notice--

The journal dropped from fingers gone numb, and with a low roll of her stomach Cassandra opened the vellum missive that had brought the prisoner- and toast of Thedas’ literary circles- to the conclave. His identity was not well known, and so his political leanings were a mystery to most, but the spindly writing that danced across the page was answer enough.

_ ‘....and as your presence may quell those on either sides who discover a common interest unites them I request your presence at the Temple of Sacred Ashes as we convene for peace. I also confess, Ser Trevelyan, that your presence would delight to of my own retinue who take far too little care in their own pleasures or needs--’ _

The tears abruptly won, and Cassandra hastily refolded the letter before the ink could be ruined. Justinia, Divine and Most Holy, had taken the time to invite an author that her hands admired because she was concerned for them. Because she wanted them to be happy. Because, in her own way, she loved them as they loved her. The tears bled some of the poison of grief from her throat as she sobbed into her hands, and she knew more would follow in the days to come. But for now she would have her moment, and then read this last unexpected gift with one eye on the door.

 

No one would kill this man until she knew the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.


End file.
